


Smoke and Mirrors

by nieseryjna



Category: Person of Interest (TV), White Collar
Genre: Gen, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 01:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nieseryjna/pseuds/nieseryjna
Summary: The Machine delivers Ellen Parker’s number to John, and the world will never be the same for anyone. AU story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aragarna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/gifts).



> This story was supposed to be written for Reverse Big Bang in 2015. Long long time ago. I actually wrote 99% of the story before I got totally blocked and RL put writing in the drawer. Now I finally finished.
> 
> This story is for Aragarna who requested it at RBB and waited so patiently for me to finally end it. I hope you like it Ara!
> 
> Banner Designs: Aragarna  
> Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin, USA Network and FOX, Person of Interest belongs Jonathan Nolan and CBS. I’m just borrowing the characters for fun.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/68693008@N08/42795330094/in/dateposted-public/)

 

“Nine-one-one, operator twenty-three, what is your emergency?”

“Shots fired at 118 West 85th Street. My friend is hurt.”

“Sir…”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/68693008@N08/28625656537/in/dateposted-public/)

 

Chapter 1

~

 

Some days earlier

John Reese was not someone that got attached to people. Not in his line of work, not with his baggage. And yet after he met Harold, it changed. Gradually, week after week he started to care about his employer, that became his friend.

Helping people, when they are about to die, or in worse cases, be the one to kill, was a dangerous job. But John needed to have a purpose, a goal in life. He was thankful to Harold for giving him one. Now it was time to return a favor. Not that Harold lost a goal in life, that came long before John even knew him. When Harold first started to try to help people he got the number for the Machine. But now, after frantic Root kidnapped him. Harold became wary and afraid. He also didn't leave the library, the center of his normal operations, for the past three weeks. It was John that for these past few weeks received their numbers to help. To him has also fallen the responsibility to get out with Bear, the dog he took off crazy gang members.

So this is what brought John to Washington Square Park in the morning, the only place that Harold drank tea from. He knows the cart driver by name, and always gave a hefty tip for his drink. The park was also a place when he usually got the call from the Machine.

Apparently not today. He took Harold's tea, and his coffee and went into the library to check on his friend. When left too long on his own, he tends to get obsessed with people they weren't able to help.

"Finch?" He called out at the entrance. Usually, Bear will come by to say hello, or Harold would call out a greeting. But space had this empty feeling, that he knew meant no one was there. "Finch?" he called again entering the main room where Harold's computer equipment stand. It was empty. Setting beverages he brought with him to the table, John smiled faintly. Now everything will be coming back to the norm.

Turning he was ready to leave when the door opened, and Harold together with Bear came in. "Ah, Mister Reese, good to see you." He greeted John with a slight smile, and little restraint he showed since his abduction.

"Harold. How are you doing today?" John nodded. Observing Finch intently. He was still moving a little bit slower than before. The limp was more pronounced and his small frame more bent too. He was still hurting, but at least he started to take the dog out, little progress.

"We have a new number," Finch answered instead.

~

Peter's first day back at the office was a mix of happiness and mind-numbing paperwork. Although, he welcomed it much more than the evidence cataloging in the Cave. Not to mention being back where he belonged, and where he could still watch out for Neal.

The information that he shared with him during their picnic break was still heavy on his mind. Neal's father, mother, Ellen, the witness protection program. It was something he never suspected, although it explained a lot. Especially Neal Caffrey having no records before his 18th birthday. His eyes moved to check on Neal, slumped over a set of his paperwork to fill.

Peter's gut was nagging at him. There was still something going on, and this something had to do with Neal past. It was something he would need to investigate. Ellen was obviously still in the program. Which meant, the danger they were in, was still as actual, as it was thirty years ago when they were placed in it.

Maybe he could meet again with Ellen to get some insight on what to look out for? Neal getting to her place the first time caused the Marshals to move here somewhere else and put into heavy protection. He had no doubt that she would be soon moved again. Especially when Collins, and then himself showed up at her door. New York stopped being a safe place for her.

The question was, was it still a safe place for Neal?

A soft knock on the door snapped his attention back to the office. Neal didn't even wait for an entering call, just went in and sat on the chair opposite Peter.

"Got the paperwork done. Diana will give it to you when she checks if I didn't miss anything, but only your piece is missing."

Peter nodded. Neal smiled his con-man smile, and Peter's gut clenched. It was never a good sign.

"Can I leave earlier today? I have a date with a charming older lady." Blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

"June back from visiting her daughter?" She left just a few days after Peter brought Neal back from Cape Verde.

This time the smile, that Neal served, was genuine. "No, she is supposed to be there for the next two weeks."

"Ah, that leaves Ellen. You want to get as much as possible about your father before she is moved again."

"How did? Never mind, yes and I hope she will be more open now and tell me some details. There is something fishy about the story she told me the first time, and I want to know more." Neal admitted, little reluctant. He promised Peter the truth and honestly, he was trying to keep his word. But he was afraid that his actions might put Peter, or Elizabeth, in crossfires again.

"Just be careful. And Neal promise me whatever you will learn that you will just not go on his own to dig things up. People have not put in witness protection, and stay in it for thirty years, without a good reason." He could see the gears running in Neal's head. Trying to come up with an answer that will be a technical truth, and at the same not admitting or promising anything at all. "And no asking Mozzie behind my back to help you check it."

This time, Neal chuckled. It was sometimes scary how Peter could predict his next move. "All right, I if I learn anything I will come, with it, to you first."

But that wasn't exactly what Peter needed to hear. "I'm serious Neal. Whatever is going on, be careful and don't go looking for trouble. My gut is saying something wrong is going on."

This time Neal nodded, he put Peter in enough trouble already. The famous gut helped to get both of them out of them, or at least was a great detector of what was coming. If only Peter were more often inclined to share his gut feeling. Or when Neal wasn't blinded by the rush of the con to listen to his friend.

"I promise," Neal said, absolutely serious. And he meant it too.

Peter was silent for a second too long, his eyes still firmly set on Neal as it trying to read him better. "Fine, now get the hell out of here, and give my regards to Ellen." He waved him off, his attention shifting back to paperwork before the conman even left his office.

~

John usually didn't have time to observe how Harold worked. He knew it involved a lot of computer screens, typing super fast on a keyboard. All usually ending in breaking into top secret databases, helping identify their number. Or sometimes help save their lives. This time, he helped first to decipher the number.

He found out how it was done when Harold stopped getting out. The numbers, or rather coded numbers, were provided to him instead. But that took barely five minutes. The rest of the time he spent playing with Bear and observing his friend work. John was a patient man, but he was also more a man of action.

"Huh," Harold grunted before the screen. His fingers stopping the tap, tap rhythm.

"Harold, did you find something?"

"Apparently our number is Katheryn Hill." He typed again, and printer set on a small table behind him started to work.

"Who according to all databases I checked…"

Pushing his chair Finch turned to get the printout, and just as the chair stopped he stood up. John joined him by the board they usually put most of the information they could find.

"… have no digital footprint since 1982."

John put tape on top of the photo, securing it in one place. A thirty-year-old photo of a young woman, she was probably in her late twenties or early thirties. In her green eyes, he could see a spark of stubbornness and character.

"Any idea what happened to her and why she disappeared?" John followed his friend back to his computer.

"Well so far no, but I will dig more and call you as soon as I know. It might have something to do that she was a cop and her partner was arrested for murder. Why don't you take Bear for another walk and bring some tea, I need to break into a few other databases."

All that remained for John was really either sit again and observe his friend. Who once again was intently looking at the screens, his fingers moving with incredible speed over a keyboard. Or he could take Bear out again. Secure not only some tea for Harold and coffee for himself but maybe something to snack on too. There was this nice bakery, few blocks away - The Greatest Cake - that he liked to visit.

It didn't take long, and he was on his way back when comm in his ear cracked lightly when the connection was established.

"Mister Reese, it looks like our number is in Witness Protection. She arrested her partner for murder. Then disappeared into protection soon after he admitted guilt. She was moved to St. Louis where she was for seventeen years. After that, she moved first to San Francisco, then only a few years later to New York. She is now known as Ellen Parker."

"So she might be in danger because of something that happened in the past. Do you have an address for me?"

"I will have it when you get back, there are still few things to check. If it's related to her status as a protected witness. Something terrible might happen not only to her but also to other people that were placed with her."

"I see you in five."

"I brought you something." The brown bag was set slowly beside Harold's' arm. He was so engrossed in finding information about Kathryn, or rather Ellen that he didn't hear John and Bear coming back.

"Is that the famous fresh chocolate au pain from The Greatest Cake?" Without waiting for an answer, Harold was opening the bag, inhaling deeply. Well, John didn't have to answer now. While Harold ate his pastry, he took a look on the board. Another picture joined the one of young Kathryn, Ellen Parker presumably. She might be 30 years older, but the eyes were the same shape and color.

"When I got to her new name it wasn't so difficult to find out where she lives, and how she looks now."

"So where am I going?"

"Roosevelt Island, she lives in apartment 14 E on 4221 Main Street."

"I'll keep you posted."

~

Just after Neal visited Ellen for that first time on Roosevelt Island, she was moved to a new location. They gave her time to take the basics, but everything else she had to leave behind. Not for the first time, but it was a few years since that happened last, and she wasn't that young person anymore that could be uprooted within hours.

But her new place wasn't bad, and what was important close enough for Neal to be able to visit without Peter Burke to tag along. After his return from the Island, Neal told her a lot of his history with Peter. Oh, she knew he arrested him. But Peter, in his quest to find Neal and bring him back to New York, didn't tell her everything. Besides, there were always two sides to the story.

Sitting on the stairs she enjoyed the summer weather. "Ellen!" Neal's happy voice averted her attention from a gardening catalog. There were a few big pots before stairs, and she hoped she will be here long enough to plant something new.

"Neal." She hugged him, or maybe this time he hugged her. The tension in his back that she felt that first time was still there. She wondered if there was anything she could do to help ease it someday.

"Come one in, I've made sun tea. You're going to love it. And you can tell me what got you so tensed up." Flashing a smile that would make any conman abide by any request she led him to her new home.

"What about the Marshals, won't they move you just because I came by, again?"

She took him to the kitchen and beside tea also provided his favorite childhood cookies. Sitting beside him she smiled again.

"Oh no, we all know this is just a temporary place, and as soon as they find me a new one I will be gone."

"And they will probably move you out of state."

"Most probably, you know we were in witness protection for a reason, and it still is valid."

"Ellen, I need to find out more. I need to know if… if I'm my father's son, and all the bad that he has done, am I like him?"

"Oh dear. No, listen to me. You are not an evil person, you made some mistakes, and from what Agent Burke told me you paid for them, and… " she playfully kicked the anklet "you are still paying for it. But you never would do what he did."

"Murder someone."

"Yes."

"But I almost did."

That was something she didn't expect, the raw pain in his eyes, the sadness and realization that in some way he was his father's son.

"But you didn't. Neal, you have a good heart, and I know you would do many, not so legal things, but you are not a murder. Not in cold blood like James was."

"What happened? Ellen, I need to know. We wouldn't be put in witness protection just because he killed someone."

"No, we wouldn't, but Neal this is much more complicated and still dangerous, it's better to let the topic lie and not coming back to it."

"Ellen, I need to know. Truth."

It wasn't something she wanted to share. Even now after thirty years she still wanted to keep him safe. But the last time it didn't end so well either. The truth had consequences, and she wasn't sure either she or Neal could face them. She was afraid that the truth still wasn't safe.

She smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes, and a smile that Peter Burke would recognize in an instant. A conman smile.

"I will tell you before I'm gone. There is someone else that you should talk about it too."

"Peter?"

"No. Although I think it might help you later when you know more. But before that, my friend Sam, he helped me with the investigation." She winked at him, receiving a relieved smile in return. "On the side. He will be probably able to tell you a little bit more. But I need to contact him first and see where he is. He is working undercover and communication is sparse."

"Do you know when they are moving you?"

"Not yet, but if they do that before I get some news from Sam, I'm sure we can come up with a way to communicate."

"Oh, I know just the person. Next time I will bring Mozzie with me, I'm sure you will like him."

"Mozzie? Why don't tell me more about him, while I make us something more substantial than cookies? What would you say for Cornish hen?"

Neal's smile was almost blinding with happiness. "It's my favorite."

She laughed. "I know."


	2. Chapter 2

Roosevelt Island was not a place John visited often. Or rather he didn't visit it at all. Finding the address wasn't a problem, and he didn't even had to try to get buzzed in. When he came by the door, a teenager girl was just leaving, he smiled and nodded in greeting, keeping the door open as she dragged a small dog behind her. All that left was to get to apartment 14E.

The corridors were empty, and all seemed in surprisingly good shape. Finding the door, John looked around, then knocked and waited for any reaction. After 30 seconds, he hit again, and again.

"Seems Miss Parker is not at home," He muttered, knowing that the piece in his ear will catch it anyway.

"I don't see any activity on her accounts in the past few days, be careful Mister Reese. She might look just like an older lady, but she was a cop and a private security guard for most of her life."

Fishing a set of lock-picks from his pocket, he smirked, Harold was back in his mother henning element. Grabbing the handle and slightly turning he was surprised it turned all the way. The door was open. With one smooth move, he exchanged lock-picks for his gun. That wasn't a good sign.

Surveying the small corridor with one quick glance, he swept the flat with efficient moves, born from doing the same thing over and over again. It was clear, but there was a nagging feeling in his gut that something was wrong. The apartment wasn't big, pots of flowers were set on each windowsill, modest furniture, and paintings on the walls.

In the bedroom, the first thing that caught his attention were partially open drawers. Pulling one out it quickly became evident they were empty. The closed doors hinge squeaked when he pushed one wing slightly, revealing some half-empty boxes and empty hangers.

"Seems Miss Parker has moved out," John reported.

"I'll check what happened, but this is the last address witness protection has for her."

A squeak sounded somewhere in the apartment. A squeak that reminded John of a sneaker sole on linoleum made. Carefully he moved back towards the door, only to see a leg disappear out of view, the owner hiding in the kitchen.

"Harold, Miss Parker has a visitor."

"A visitor?"

"Unwanted vi…" a gunshot rang, and the bullet hit door frame, sending pieces in all directions, one hitting John's hand, tearing the skin. Another shot allowed him to localize the shooter, and fire back, unfortunately, he was further from the exit door that the shooter. When he tried to get out, his luck run out, and the bullet hit his arm. Firing again, he missed, however, this time he saw the person disappearing thru the exit door.

Activating his comm again, he needed Harold, as he ignored him for long enough. "…eesse?!" He winced at the volume after the connection came back.

"I'm okay. Someone was here and he wasn't in a mood to talk. Can you check the cameras around the building, I caught only the back, around six feet high, gray hair." He starts to feel the wound in his arm, the prickle of hurt, the tug of muscles. He knows it's a flesh wound but with cops probably on the way already he doesn't have time to look for more.

"Harold try to identify him." Finding a kitchen towel big enough to wrap around his arm is not a problem.

"I'll see what I can get. Unfortunately, this part of New York is surprisingly low equipped in surveillance. Are you all right Mr. Reese?"

"I'm fine, just a flesh wound. I think detective Carter can help us more in this situation."

The corridor outside is by some miracle still empty; maybe people are too afraid to get out after the shooting.

"I'll call doctor Martinez, get to him directly." His friend reassures him. "And Detective Fusco is on his way."

Reese leaves the building and hides behind a corner just as the first police car pulls before the entrance. His car is parked nearby, and this time nothing stops him.

"Harold, did you find anything about our mysterious shooter?"

"I'm still searching Mister Reese. How is your arm?"

The doctor just finished putting the last stitch on his arm and put a dressing on it.

"The good doctor is not happy seeing me here again." Doctor smiled tightly. He was doing it just for money, although he liked John much more than his usual patients, and the pay wasn't hurting either.

John nodded his thanks to the doctor leaving him to clean up the mess.

"I'm sure the good doctor is much happier to see you than his other patients. Now I didn't find anything more about our mysterious shooter. However, I found where they moved Miss Parker."

"Do you think that the person that found her place on Roosevelt Island will be able to find her in the new place too?"

"Well it's not so easy, the first place was her permanent residence for a few years, and it was much easier to identify. According to my data, she left it over four weeks ago, so even if the person managed to find it, it would take more time than for me."

"So where do I go?"

"85th West Street, number 118. I would suspect there will be Marshals keeping an eye on her, so be careful John."

"Harold I'm always careful."

He could hear a chuckle coming from his friend and friendly barking of Bear.

"I'll come by for a camera it will be easier to see who is coming by, and maybe we will be able to identify better who the shooter might be."

~

It took a few next days to meet with Ellen again, and this time what she had to tell him wasn't something he expected. Her words rang in his head every time his attention shifted for a moment from their current case.

After Peter came back to the office, they had some time to fill up the rest of the paperwork. But now new cases piled up and the work was actually something he enjoyed a lot. Which didn't stop him from wondering about what Ellen said the last time they met.

The Irish Mob.

He had few reasons to avoid Mob before, and not only because they tend to cut your fingers, and usually solved issues by force. He didn't like violence, especially one that ended in a chance of someone dying.

"Caffrey, stop dreaming, we have work to do!" Peter called from an entrance to a conference room. It was unusual those days that he missed anything. It was also quite unusual for Peter to call him Caffrey.

Neal was spending his time there, surrounded by various stacks of paperwork and case files. There were again in the middle of a fraud case, not mortgage fraud, thanks gods, but a developer or architect was sparing way too much on construction costs.

Neal frowned at him and played the best innocent face he could. Eyes wide open, a slight upper frown on the forehead, mouth slightly open forming an o. Picture perfect "what did I do."

Peter glanced at him from his folder and stopped. One of his eyebrows rose in question. Neal repeated the innocent face adding a slight move of his lips, as in asking something.

Peter groaned. "Dammit Neal."

Neal smiled. "What?". The personification of innocence.

"Stop daydreaming and get back to your paperwork." Peter tried to be stern, but he did find it too amusing the by play they were doing. It was good to have Neal back.

Neal smiled secretly and whined as best as he could. "But it's boooooring."

This time they both laughed, grabbing the attention of others in the office. Jones and Diana shared a smile, some of Harvard crew smirked under their noses.

Peter closed the doors. "Joking aside, what bothers you?"

Neal looked away, concentrating on the papers. He promised Peter, well he even promised himself, to be honest, and tell him about James. But…

"Something about your father?" It was a gamble on his side, but this was the only trouble Peter could see brewing on the horizon.

"You could say so. I told you he was a dirty cop." He said still looking anywhere than Peter.

Peter nodded. "Yeah you did, but that's not all." Waiting patiently for Neal to speak further, he started to analyze the situation. It might have been something even bigger than both of them anticipated, and he was still mostly in the dark.

"No, that's not all. He was accused of a murder of his CO, and confessed to it before we were taken into the program." This time Neal looked at him directly, trying to gauge his reaction.

It wasn't really too difficult to read what Neal needed from him at that moment. He was scared, as he once mentioned that he was his father's son, a criminal. But Neal wasn't a murderer, his aversion to guns and bodies even more understandable now. It wasn't just precaution. If you have a gun, the potential sentence is going right up, but having a gun also mean a quick way to hurt people. Even kill them and that was something Neal abhorred, even before he knew, or did he…

"Did you knew about it, before?"

"No. Just that he was a corrupted cop, that was what Ellen told me on my eighteenth birthday."

"What else did she told you?"

Neal frowned, looking away again. "That he was alive."

"What?" Peter looked at him in shock. That wasn't news he expected. No wonder Neal, with an instinct to run every time live got difficult, run away after hearing that. "Did you knew it before?"

"Yes. It's… it's why I run away from home. Because that news was just too much."

Peter wasn't really sure what to do now. He wished El was there to guide him. Instead, he tried to remember what to do. "I'm sorry." He finally said.

"You shouldn't be, it wasn't you that told me the news." Neal was hiding behind a con man mask.

"Still, I'm sorry you were lied to by your mother and Ellen. That you had to learn the truth so late."

Neal frowned, he never thought about it, what would be if his mother and Ellen were honest with him from the beginning. Well, maybe not when he was three, but when he was a little bit older, fascinated with cops. They should have told him before. His hand twitched, fingers squeezing into a fist, he was angry at his mother all over again.

"Neal." Peter just a moment ago was standing on the other side of the table, now was close by and squeezed his shoulder. The anger and stress started to fade away, but the uneasiness in his mind was still there.

"Ellen told me that he was involved in corruption, but he wasn't the only one. She also said that part of the issue was Irish Mob." They say that confessing your sins is a cleansing of the mind. Neal never a very religious person, not to mention not one to confessing ever, now understood how it worked. Secrets were a burden, heavy burden difficult to keep alone. But telling Peter made him lighter, easier breathing, Peter would help him to solve it.

"Irish Mob, that's heavy stuff. But what was the corruption part?"

"As I understand it Irish Mob was involved in corrupting cops. But Ellen refused to tell me more, insisting it's still not safe for anyone to know more. I'm meeting here today to get some more information, she mentioned a friend, that was helping her in the beginning to uncover all, so I hope she can point me in some direction."

"You want to get back at Irish Mob, Neal…"

"I don't want to get back at Irish Mob Peter. I'm not that reckless." Corner of Neal's mouth raised in a sarcastic smile. "But I want to know what was going on and if we can do something about it."

"We?"

"Yes, we. Or are you not here to fight for justice?"

"I'm in, don't worry, and I'm sure we can get Diana and Jones to help too. But Neal, remember, we are doing it by the book. Corruption is easy to spread and easy to pin on someone." Peter was grim, remembering his own troubles with corruption accusation.

"Fine. By the book." He shrugged, having promised that to Peter before, it was not easy to remember the failures, but it was something he tried to amend now. "As we are doing things by the book, I'm meeting Ellen again. Hopefully, she will tell me some more."

This time, he was taking Mozzie with him, in hopes that the great understanding Ellen and Mozzie got one evening will allow her to open a little bit more about secrets of his father.


	3. Chapter 3

John spends two days observing the new place of Ellen Parker. A brownstone in Manhattan was not a bad idea for a safe house. There was always someone around, although on the other hand so many different people were coming and going he started to get tired of keeping the camera up.

Today he stood behind a tree with Bear at his side and taking from time to time a walk around to not be standing out like a sore thumb. They still had no lead at who would want to kill Miss Parker. The documents Harold managed to gather were some leads, but the oldest one was over ten years old - a sighting of no other than James Bennett, her former partner. Other than that they were still no clues which might be the perpetrator, or if maybe Ellen Parker wasn't the victim.

"Harold." John short call was the only warning he usually gave.

"Anything interesting Mr. Reese?"

John started taking photos, the wi-fi would send it straight to his phone and then to Harold for identification. Two men, a young looking guy in a suit, which even from the distance, and for a not so trained eye of John, was worth even more than his bespoke Armani.

"Two men, I'm sending you pictures. Mrs. Parker seems to know them, especially the younger one."

The second man was smaller by a half head, bald, bespectacled, and he was all the time looking the other way. Still, John tried to make another photo, hopeful that at least partial face look would allow for identification. His phone beeped confirming that photos were sent to Harold.

"Oh." Harold's voice was a little faint and surprised.

"News?"

"The young man in the suit, is Neal Caffrey, a world renewed con-artist, convicted forger, suspected of racketeering, fraud, and art theft."

"That's awfully fast to get that information even for you." John was rarely surprised at the speed with which Harold got information, but this was light years ahead.

"Google speed-up theirs search results, and Mr. Caffrey was on the front pages of most papers in the City about a year and a half ago. When he escaped judge chambers by jumping out of the window." The partial lie rolled out of his tongue without any pause, he wasn't ready to reveal all of his secrets.

"That must have been a painful jump." John tried to make another shot of the mysterious bald man when Caffrey again moved in his line of vision. It was as they danced around just to ensure no one sees the older man's face.

On the other side of the street, Neal hugged Ellen once again, murmuring into her ear "How long did you have the extra observer?"

She smiled like he would ask just how she was, "About two days, he showed up in the evening."

Mozzie jabbed slightly in Neal's side to get him to move again.

"I will get him to follow me while you two decide what to do." He made a broad gesture as like he would tell a story. Whispering with a smile, without moving his lips. "Laugh."

So they laughed, Ellen openly and loud, Neal just with a smirk on his face, showing he knew the story. This time, he used the distraction to stand with his back to the observer. "Why you?" Neal nodded, as to agree to something.

"Cos he doesn't have a microphone and will not know, and you will stay here. I managed to stay out of pictures too. Suits are suspectful of everyone they can't see clearly."

"He's a Suit?" Was FBI again having a mole?

"Not that kind, more like Silent Suit." Not that it explained anything to Neal but said at least one thing. Government type, probably. If not FBI then some other letter soup agency.

He nodded. Ellen did too and followed their lead.

"Come on then, you can help me plant the flowers, I bought some forget-me-nots."

Neal smiled, a real happy smile, he always helped Ellen with her plants, back then at home.

"Then I bid my goodbye, you never know what they put in all that earth for plants. I'm allergic." Mozzie used one of his favorite excuses. Hugged Ellen, whispering into her ear. "I think he learned his sneakiness from you. Good job."

Ellen hugged him and answered with a smile. "Most of it."

John was still trying to get the photo of the mysterious man when apparently they started parting ways. Caffrey followed Ellen up the stairs. And judging from her detail reaction, he wasn't an unknown. However the smaller man made them nervous, they were shooting him measuring glances all the time. But as he was with someone known, and apparently also knew their detail, they didn't interfere.

"Harold, our mystery man, is leaving. Can you send Fusco or Detective Carter around to help on the site? I want to follow him." John didn't really wait for Harold to answer. The mystery man was small, but his pace was quick, he had to follow swiftly to catch up with him.

"I don't think that would be necessary. I have some more information on Mr. Caffrey. He ran away from prison, twice if you count the flying out of the Judge chambers, the first time he walked away from Sing Sing without harming anyone. His file shows he is extremely non-violent, and if I read is correct, he is also currently working for FBI as a CI."

"Harold, that's a terrible idea."

"Fine, I'll call Detective Fusco."

~

Trailing the mysterious man wasn't as complicated as John's work sometimes went. However, after a half hour, the man disappeared. He just was there one moment and not there in the next.

"Harold, our mysterious man disappeared on me. Can you look around with City cams?"

"Didn't you manage to pair your phone with his?" It was usually the first thing John did for the number of suspected perpetrator, but this time Miss Parker was never close enough, and the mystery man's phone didn't lock.

"No." John's voice was grim, that didn't bide well for the future. "He was using a burner phone and getting out of range every time I came near."

Mozzie stood without move just a few feet away from his follower, hidden very well behind a dumpster, his germophobia on high alert, but this was more important. His phone vibrated slightly displaying a notice. Pairing complete. He smiled under the nose, he just did what the Silent Suit was trying to do to him. Time to reverse their roles.

"Mister Reese, I can't localize him. The last camera was at the bank more than six hundred feet behind you. We lost him."

John scanned everything nearby, but still, the person he was trying to find was nowhere visible, and Harold was no help.

When the phone vibrated again, Mozzie waited for only a second before activating it to listen in.

John's phone chimed with an incoming call, that should be Fusco.

"Detective." He welcomed the distraction, the situation still worrying him. But as he couldn't do anything about it right now, he could join Harold for a while and get more intel about Mister Caffrey, Harold wasn't such good liar as he thought he was.

"How do you do that?" When his question was met with silence, he continued. "For once I would like to know what I'm getting into."

"But you always know what you are going into Fusco. This time, you just observe what's happening. Keep your eye out for a man in his thirties leaving the 118th."

"What, the kind of criminal you are interested in?"

"As a matter of fact, yes a kind of criminal, but this time I'm more interested in person he's with. Call me if you see anything suspicious." Taking a turn, he was merely two blocks away from the Library.

Mozzie was slightly confused by the call. So the Silent Suit seemed to know who Neal was, however, his somehow unwilling associate Detective Fusco, was just a pawn. Well then, two sides could play the game. Quickly sending Neal text informing him of the situation, and the need to leave Ellen's unnoticed, he followed his target. It wasn't so difficult, obviously, the man had some training, it was visible in the way he was previously trailing Mozzie. Not too close, not too far away to lose him by accident, but also far away enough that he shouldn't notice. Well, he wasn't born yesterday, and he actually wanted to be followed, for a limited time. As soon as he was sure they were far enough he was content with switching places, it was time to learn more about Silent Suit.

John almost turned around trying to shake the feeling he was followed. He covered his tracks, did everything he was taught and what he learned on the street to lose a potential trail, something integrated so deep within him he did it every time he was walking somewhere. Yet the feeling didn't ease.

Standing on the last corner he raised his head, looking directly at the street corner camera, it's red light blinking steadily.

"You would tell me if someone was following me, wouldn't you?" He thought about the time when he along Root and Harold became the Machine-human interfaces. She helped them then.

"If it's not something endangering your life, I don't think she would." Harold's voice sounded in his ear, and he regretted for a moment that he didn't cut the communication.

"Would you tell me then?" John crossed the street, this time going directly when he needed.

Mozzie observed Silent Suit's behavior puzzled, the man was trained enough to shake any normal trail, well Mozzie wasn't normal. And then he stopped at the corner long enough to talk to a camera. Although, Mozzie was sure as the shadow government type he was just talking to whoever was on the other side of the comm in his ear. Then crossed the road to enter a library. Closed, public library.

Place that Mozzie himself was considering a few years back for his next safe house, but someone was faster than him in securing the ownership. He chose the warehouse just a block away instead.

It was time to know his neighbors.

"Any luck?" John asked from the threshold.

"Since the last time you asked, five minutes ago, it's still a no," Harold answered with slight humor in his voice. The mysterious man got under the skin of usually stoic man.

"Well, then since we wait for the results, you can tell me how do you know Mr. Caffrey?"

Harold looked up from his monitor surprised. He was sure he managed to make the right impression when he told Mr. Reese previously that the search was just very fast. Obviously not. He pushed glasses deeper on his nose, at the same time looking at the wall where pieces of papers covered in social security numbers, as well as photographs of various people, were pinned.

People he didn't manage to help. People before John came around.

Bear stood up and growled quietly. Someone was trying to sneak around but stopped as soon as they heard the dog. Bear growled again, this time little louder.

John in one swift move pulled a gun from behind his back and aimed it at the newcomer.

It was actually a surprise to see the man he was just following entering the library.

"I too would like to know how do you know Mr. Caffrey. Harold, was it?" Mozzie stood in a safe distance away from the dog, looking directly at Harold.

John's hand didn't waiver when he looked at Harold with surprise. "You know this man?"

"You could say so, we met briefly a few years ago." Harold nodded.

"Bear, terugtrekken," John called the command, hiding his gun too, still keeping an eye on the man in the corridor.

"Come closer then and explain, or rather both explain."

"Yes, an explanation would be a perfect end to the evening." Mozzie nodded. He moved forward slightly, discreetly looking around, it was indeed a fascinating place. He noticed the rows of books as he entered, but this room, with a desk covered in computer screens, the board with photos of Ellen and Neal. And the wall full of numbers and photos. He squinted his eyes to see better, those numbers looked like social security numbers… and that meant…

"Oh. You did it, didn't you? You build the Machine!" Mozzie started to panic. Now all his nightmares came true. No one would believe him, no one ever believed him when he told them about government spying on people every hour of every day. No one ever believed.

Bear whined disturbed by the new person behavior.

"Calm down, Mozzie, calm down." Harold intervened as quick as he could.

John observed the man, Mozzie with interest, he was surprised that the man knew about the Machine, and it did explain, more or less when Harold and he knew each other.

"Calm down? Harold, it's my worst nightmare, permanent invigilating is true and no one ever will believe me!" A second later he registered a name that Harold called him. "And don't call me that!"

Harold successfully pushed him on a free chair. "As you wish. What should I call you then?"

"Call me Mr. C." He stopped spotting something interesting on the wall with photographs and numbers. Standing up, he quickly walks over it and gently pushing aside a page with number uncovers another set of photos.

Neal Caffrey's face looks at him with hollow eyes, from his mug shot. On the second photo Kate Moreau, in a blue graduation gown, smiles happily at the camera. Something breaks silently in Mozzie heart, he never liked that Neal was so hung on Kate, but her death was too much affecting Neal even now.

"… and explain how do you have a photo of Neal and Kate on this strange wall. How do you know Neal?"

Harold turns away from them, concentrating for a moment on his computer again, the search is still going. But now that he knows who's face it is, he also knows it could take days to find it in any database. Theodore Winters, he knows is the most paranoid person in the world. One that taught him few things about how to avoid surveillance and few other useful and not really legal things. He owes him.

Canceling search, he turns back to the wall of his failure. Neither John nor Mr. C as he calls himself didn't even move, both patiently waiting for an explanation.

"Yes, I did create the Machine." He admits, he told a little about his idea, back then when he first met Winters, as a hypothetical situation from which he would need to keep himself safe.

"The Machine concentrates on acts of terror, it sees everything. Violent crimes involving ordinary people, the government considers them irrelevant, but we don't." He nods at John. "Before John joined me, I still got information about people that needed help or needed to be stopped but I couldn't do much alone. Mr. Caffrey and Ms. Moreau were on the list I received one day."

"As he mentioned, he didn't have anyone to help him, but Harold tried to do what was right anyway." John knew Harold well enough to know. That's why he needed him. Harold nodded. "Yes. I found Mr. Caffrey was on monitoring anklet with FBI and with his record knew he was more likely a victim, and that the anklet should keep him safe. Till it stopped working, and I lost the possibility to monitor his movements that way. Ms. Moreau was much harder to locate, and when I finally did… I arrived at the airport too late."

The gasp from the door was not something anyone was expecting. Well or rather not John and Harold. Bear was surprisingly a best friend allowing the man in the shadow to pet him.


	4. Chapter 4

"Carry on Mr… Harold, is it?" Neal stepped out of shadows. "Bear, zitten." He commanded softly, and to John's surprise, the dog listened. It was one to know the language to use, the other to know how to use commands.

Harold looked at John, a little bit unsure how to proceed. John was the one that usually talked with the victims, his role was more of support than anything. In many cases before when he managed to help, he never, ever unveiled his own identity. This situation was too unusual.

"I'm sorry Mr. Caffrey, there is really no more I can say about it."

"Do you know who killed her?" He knew, who did it, or at least still thought he knew. But what if he was wrong, what if…

John knew what Neal must be coming through, he felt the same when he discovered Jessica's number on Finch wall. Repeating over and over again. He got his revenge, but if what Harold told about Caffrey was true, pursuing it for his girlfriend might put him in a situation without an exit.

"Neal. I know what you are going through."

Neal watched him, not impressed. His mind was back again to that moment when he thought that Fowler was responsible for Kate's death. Neal's nostrils flared, he raised his chin higher and with cold, hard eyes looked at John again.

When he spoke, his voice was slightly deeper and raised. "You. Have. No. Idea." He spat, punctuating every word.

That was something John knew, anger, resentment he saw in his own eyes after Jess died after he dealt with her husband.

Calmly he stared back, giving Neal occasion to calm down, but keeping his attention still on him. Taking a step back, he turned toward the board with all the photos and numbers. He knew exactly where Jess number was, he stared at it long enough while waiting for various information from Harold. Pushing back another list, he uncovered Jess smiling photo.

"I certainly know. This is Jess, my…" he couldn't use girlfriend here, she was someone else wife then, but still she was very special to him. "The love of my life."

Neal flinched.

"She died, and I couldn't do anything about it. Neither could Harold, despite knowing something could happen." He observed Neal with caution. He didn't know what the young man reaction to this would be. He knew he hit the nail on the head when he saw him flinch, but now there were few possibilities. His own heart clenched, he couldn't help Jessica and deep down he still blamed himself for it. He squashed the feeling and concentrated back to the problem at hand, it was easier.

Mozzie moved closer to Neal, it was now or never, to get his attention back to the current issue. Ellen Parker.

Neal nodded slowly, yes he knew the feeling, and yes he did believe John now that he knew how it was, but his emotions still ran wild, as always.

John continued, still observing him. "That's why we try to do what we do, help people."

Harold's computer beeped another unsuccessful search for the man John saw at Ms. Parker apartment. The sound was surprisingly loud in the small space breaking the silence and mood. It seemed that Mr. Caffrey's feelings were getting under control again, his gaze turning again towards the photo of his late girlfriend and then back to pictures of Ellen Parker on their "active number" board.

John gaze never wavered, never stopped observing Caffrey, and surprisingly for a conman, his emotions were right out there for everybody to see. It was his only chance.

"I'm sorry, we both are, so very sorry we didn't manage to help you and your girlfriend then. But we have a chance to help Ellen Parker now. Will you help us?"

Before Neal could say anything, his face spoke volumes, but the man named Mozzie was the first to answer.

"Don't think I will trust you now. It's another government conspiracy, against citizens!" Neal smiled a little, before putting his hand on his friend's arm to settle him before he starts to list all possible plots. He saw Harold smirking. "Exactly, this is a conspiracy. Would you like to join us?" That discharged the tension.

Neal nodded. "Yes, we will work with you to help Ellen, as for conspiracies…"

Mozzie broke in. "No, no conspiracy help. We should be uncovering it! Not helping you!"

"Moz." Neal shook his head, now wasn't the time.

"Fair enough." Harold nodded. "Now as we have this setup can we get to the topic at hand? How to keep Miss Parker safe, and finding who the perpetrator is. This isn't about conspiracy now, it's about someone's life, and it's all that matters now."

Mozzie huffed, but he knew he wouldn't win this one, you never would with conspiracies. "Fine, I'll help you." He finally mumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"With that in agreement, how exactly can we help you? What do you know already?"

"Well, we know someone is after Ms. Parker. John encountered a man in her last apartment that apparently was looking for something. However, he managed to run away before John saw more of him. I'm running searches right now for a person meeting his description, but nothing so far."

Neal nodded. "If you saw him clearly enough I can make a sketch, that usually speeds things up."

John shook his head. "Not exactly enough, unfortunately. I just know it was an older man, with graying hair, about your height and build more massively than you."

"That really is not enough, no wonder you can't find him." Mozzie had to put his five cents in.

"Well we know when he was on Roosevelt Island so it limits a little number of places I can check for surveillance footage, but so far no luck. We also know that the potential threat might be coming from the past." Harold's fingers were running over the keyboard faster than anyone was able to follow, well except maybe Mozzie, who was intensively watching him.

"You mean, that after thirty years, the reason why she went into witness protection with my mother and me is just now coming back?" Neal was surprised.

"Do you know anything about those reasons?" John picked up the topic.

Neal looked around, gathering his thoughts, he never was one to openly share things, especially about his family, even before he ran away, and more so after. Being a con man meant keeping the truth away, it was safer for everyone. On another hand, he knew that keeping the truth, even partial, just to himself sometimes hurt people, and, in this case, it could mean Ellen, and he couldn't do that.

"I know only what Ellen told me a few days ago. That my father was corrupted cop, and that there was much more corruption in their precinct. I'm not really sure why we got into witness protection, I assume it was because my father confessed to murder, and probably made some deal to keep us safe." His tone was uncertain, he still didn't know what happened exactly.

Mozzie butt in with is own comment. "Ellen mentioned that she was investigating the murder and must have found something running deeper. That's must be why they put her in too."

"Let me try to find out what it was." Harold was back in his element. Mozzie's eyes grew in surprise.

"Are you hacking FBI database?" He asked in a whisper. "Can you check out the moon landing files, while you at it."

"It's not for your entertainment Mr. C."

John smirked, and nodded to Neal stepping closer to the conman.

"I will be going back to my post outside Miss Parker doorway. If you could arrange a meeting with her or even a moment to introduce myself, it would be easier to provide my services."

"I'll ask." He took a look at the clock, it was time to go. "But maybe let do it tomorrow. Say eight o'clock? I can introduce you before going to work." John nodded, he can give a few more hours to Fusco and then take the night shift himself.

Neal was ready to leave when Harold's voice stopped him in the corridor.

"Mister Caffrey, we appreciate it if you wouldn't mention our existence to your FBI handler. Or even better to anyone from the government."

Mozzie stepping just behind him murmured "Conspiracy!"

"I don't intend to, but you might want to relocate anyway." He raised his right pants leg showing the sleek black tracker.

Harold smiled. "That's not something that bothers me Mister Caffrey, it's been handled already. We just need your and Mr. C cooperation in the matter."

Neal nodded and elbowed Mozzie, who was still murmuring conspiracy theories under his breath.

When they left John eyed Harold. "Are we really going to trust two con-men to keep the Machine secret?"

"Of course we will, nobody will believe them anyway, and thanks to Mr. C, we might have a much better support network in the criminal world that we have now. It might come useful in the future, no one knows better how to disappear than them."

"No one except Root."

Harold just nodded getting back to his monitors. Root still being a sore spot.

When they left the library, Mozzie and Neal split their ways.

Mozzie agreed with Harold to get use some of his contacts to try to find the mysterious man and he had some meetings to organize.

Neal, on the other hand, was just tired. He managed to call Ellen and give her heads up on his morning visit, but all that he needed now was a glass of wine and his own bed.

However, it wasn't what he got. When he opened his doors, a man was sitting at his table.

A gray-haired, bulkier than him, maybe slightly taller. The man from John description.

He stood in the door keeping them open, with one hand quickly getting the phone in his right pocket. Cursing internally smartphones that they had no physical buttons, it was so damn difficult to press one as speed-dial.

"Who are you?" he asked getting in the role of the conman. His face was projecting calm and confidence, at the same time he was trying to ensure that the man's attention was on his face instead of his hand.

Was the keyboard dialing second or first icon? Damn.

"I'm Sam, a friend of Ellen, she might have mentioned me?" The smile was tentative, unsure.

"How do you know Ellen?" Yeah, she did mention Sam, but didn't tell anything about him being in the city already, just that she will contact him, and then explain.

The answer was simple. "I worked with her and your father."

"My father?" that was something Neal didn't expect, Ellen just mentioned that Sam helped with her investigation, but she still kept a lot to herself.

"James Bennett."

Neal's legs weakened, he never told anyone his real name. Not even Mozzie. Closing the door, he went to wine rack to pick up something to drink. Mozzie liberated him from few good bottles. "Would you want some?" he asked feeling Sam's look on his back. The man was observing him carefully.

"Yes."

Taking glasses out of cabinet Neal took his time to open the wine and fumble further with his phone in a discreet way. He knew he was successful when he heard a faint hello from Peter. Hoping his partner will be able to follow the conversation he turned to his unexpected quest and poured wine for both of them.

"So you helped Ellen with the investigation against my father?" He remained standing, keeping his distance. There was something that didn't feel right about this man, and his conman instincts screamed at him to get the hell out of here.

"It was more an inquiry into what was going on at the precinct, after James confession we were removed from the official investigation. We then started to dig on our own but had to stop." Sam spoke with ease and with voice leveled. Neal wasn't really sure if he believed him or not. He wanted to check with Ellen, and it was really strange that Ellen didn't mention that Sam was already here.

He kept the conversation flowing, the art of the con, he could do this. "Why?"

Sam frowned, his gaze lowered. "They wanted to stop us, that's why she was moved to WitSec." He raised his head to look at Neal, his eyes full of emotion Neal didn't expect. It was more than sadness to see a friend go into WitSec.

"But you were not?" That was one if the element of the story Neal couldn't understand.

This time Sam eyes moved sideways. "I was working vice then, a lot of time spent undercover, and well she was mostly the face of investigation I kept in shadows." Now Neal knew he was lying. He hoped that Peter was on the way, trying to keep the conversation flowing, to mask any possible sounds coming from his phone.

"So what are you doing here now?"

"She contacted me, wrote you are asking questions about James, and that I can answer some of them." And that was the truth. Not something Neal expected at that moment. "And she wanted me to talk to you about the evidence we collected."

That was news for Neal. "Evidence?"

"Yes, she took it with her." He looked curious at Neal. "She didn't tell you?"

Before Neal could answer, a knock sounded on the door, and before anyone could move Peter barged in, thankfully without a gun.

"Neal, sorry we have a case…" he stopped frozen, a file in his hand slightly raised. "Oh, sorry I didn't know you had a guest."

Sam stood up as soon as Peter entered. Neal observed him with a corner of his eye. There was a moment of panic on Sam's face, but it was gone as quick as it came.

"I was just leaving." He moved quickly, disappearing behind the door a second later. Peter closed the door looking expectantly at Neal.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter put the file down on the table. "I assume it wasn't an expected guest?"

Neal smiled sadly. "No. I take you heard most of it?"

"Most of it anyway, while I still tried to listen and have not been driving."

Neal took out a beer and handed it to Peter without a word.

"That was Sam, or at least he introduced himself as such."

"Yeah I gathered that. But you don't believe him?"

Neal shook his head, taking a sip of his wine. "No, I don't think so. He was conning me, and I almost fell for it. If not for the strange meeting I had today I probably would believe him."

Peter's head perked up. "Strange meeting?"

Neal didn't even hesitate. "Mozzie." Hoping it will explain everything, he was suddenly wary that Peter would try to know more, but Mozzie was enough of distraction.

"Another one of his government conspiracy theories?"

Neal smiled. "Exactly, and this time he found someone with similar ideas. It was difficult to get out of that discussion."

"So what do you want to do about this Sam?"

"I'll talk to Ellen, and better do it right away."

"You can also make a sketch of his face, and I will run it thru our databases to confirm his identity."

Neal's eyes fell on the wine glass his guest was using.

"We can also use the glass for fingerprints and maybe DNA."

Peter collected the glass in a provided plastic bag and left for the office. Getting a promise from Neal again about waiting for the information before doing anything else.

Well, at least now he had another reason to call not only Ellen but also contacting his new mysterious friends.

Three rings. A voice mail. He wasn't really surprised when Mozzie didn't answer right away.

Three rings. A voice mail. This time, he did leave a message. Ellen might be happier to call him back than Mozzie usually was.

He tried to call the number Harold gave him, but the pattern continued. Three rings. A voice mail. So he left another message telling in short about Sam's visit and his suspicion it wasn't Sam at all.

It wasn't until morning when he learned why no one was picking up their phones.

~

Ellen put the cup under the water to rinse rest of foam. Setting it aside to dry she took a plate, but she didn't grab it hard enough. It slipped out of her hand, hitting the edge of the top and falling apart. A piece striking her finger, cutting through the skin.

"Ouch.."

A quick dry with a towel and she was slowly crouching to clean up the pieces, her knees not so young anymore. She was almost down when a squeak of floor panel caught her by surprise. Her head swung to the right at the last moment. She could feel the pressure of air by her face change for a split of a second. Then a sound, a bullet hitting wooden cupboard with high speed. Splitters flying in all directions, hitting her face leaving blood. It's instinct that takes over, it's been actually more than thirty years since anyone was shooting at her. But her body still remembers. Go down and away from the shooter. The squeak that saved her life came from the back door, but the bullet came from the front.

Question, to which she didn't know the answer was - which way was safest to go? She was surrounded by both potential escape routes and had no weapon on her own.

Well that wasn't really true, was it? She had a baseball bat by the front door, but it was too close to a potential intruder to try to get to it. She also had her gun in the bedroom safe, but that would mean she had to come close to the front door to start climbing the stairs.

No way out.

Unless… she called for help and then tried to get to the bat and phone. Her hand traveled towards her neck, seeking. It wasn't there.

Another bullet whizzed by, hitting the table top. She had to move. Scrambling on all fours she moved forward to the living room, her phone should be on the base by the couch.

The front door handle moved back and forth, someone was trying to pick the lock, so far unsuccessful. She was glad it wasn't someone on Neal's skill level. The handle rattled back and forth showing obvious for anyone experienced enough that the person on the other side was getting desperate. Another muffled sound of a bullet hitting something, made her hunch closer to the floor, couch and the small table was just a few steps away. Hiding behind the couch she blindly felt around the surface for landline, she finally found the phone base.

Empty phone base. Damn.

Another thump on the door got her moving. She must have left the phone upstairs again, damn wireless technology. Her cell was upstairs too.

The door rattled. She was glad the marshals insisted on double locks and heavy-duty frame. It was now or never. Getting up from her knees she ran towards the door. With a split second to spare, grabbed the baseball bat just when the door opened behind her. With a grace that no one would expect from her at that age, she grabbed the bat and swung it rotating her whole body towards the attacker. A hand with a gun was just moving past the threshold when it was slammed with a heavy baseball bat.

"Fuck!" it wasn't a scream, the shooter was controlling himself enough to just let it go almost silently from his lips. But Ellen was close enough to hear him. The gun flew away, far into the living room, under the couch.

Far enough for Ellen to be able to go up safely. A bullet hit the top of the bat, sending splinters everywhere. She swung the rest of it in direction of the attacker. There must have been two of them!

"Damn! Get her!"

She didn't wait for anyone to move, she could feel the wood connecting with flesh, hoping she managed to get also the second person. She jumped over the first step, getting up the stairs as fast as she could, but not quickly enough. She was lucky so far, that her attackers seemed to be not really gifted in the accuracy department until next bullet hit or rather grazed her thigh. With determination Ellen practically flew into her bedroom, falling inside and closing the door with her foot. She lied there dazed for a short moment, gasping for air. Her lungs burned, her heart frantically beating in her chest, blood rushing in her veins. Moving again she raised carefully not putting much of weight on her right leg, her thigh burned which each move, but she knew she would be in antagonizing pain if it wasn't just a gaze.

After putting the chair under the handle, she limped to her safe. That would stop them for a little while, even if they shoot the handle they will not be able to move the chair too quickly. She should have enough time to get her pistol and the medallion for Neal.

Neal! She must call him. If anything happens to her he needs to know what to do with the medallion. Taking a last look at the night desk she sights internally, her phone is not there either. That leaves two other possibilities, either it's in the bathroom or in the kitchen.

Her moves are precise, maybe not so fast as when she was in the force, but the silencer on her gun is ready to use just in time. The lock mechanism and part of the chair are gone with the first bullet, then another and another in quick succession. Putting the round small piece of jewelry in her pocket she stands safely behind the door when it opens she will have enough time to see the shooter and hopefully get to him first.

First through the door is a hand with a gun, it's battered and bloody, and she has a moment of satisfaction that she can see it shake a little. Ellen waits with patience for the man to enter fully, she knows there are two of them and she needs to see both for her plan to succeed. It's not a very refined one. Both have guns with silencers, and she can't count on the attention of her neighbors to call cops because of shots fired. Her only chance is to get the assailants in the room, incapacitate them in any possible way and then get down and outside via the back-door. If her bodyguards are gone, and it's the only conclusion she can make why they are not there yet, she has a nice escape route planned. But to disappear she needs at least two minutes to lose her trail. Probably more with her tight screaming in pain at her.

Now all she needed was precision and a lot of luck. She fired, targeting the first man leg, he fell with surprise written on his face. One down, at least partially. One to go. She didn't have time to think, the second man was already turning, the gun raising, a twitch of a finger on release. Ellen had little time to take another shot, and this time she missed her target, not completely, but far enough. The bullet lodged in her arm, just inches from her heart, that she was sure was the man's target in the first place. Her opponent fell to the floor stunned with a bullet to his ankle.

This time she screamed, a short scream full of pain. She used the opportunity her assailants were still frozen in shock to move. If she wanted to be free and alive this was her last occasion. Pulling the door behind her she limped down the stairs, one hand clutching the gun, the other slightly guiding on the rail. Any movement was painful reminder she not only wasn't so young but also that she was already shot twice. Black spots danced in her vision when she finally reached the bottom stair. She heard the door above her open again, and another bullet flew by her head. This time she stayed up, pushing herself to move.

Kitchen, she needed to get to the kitchen. Thankfully the place was small, and with only a few steps she was by the breakfast table leaving bloody handprints on every surface. The phone lay by the far end of the table, she was reaching for it when she noticed a shadow by the back-door. The back door squeaked almost silently, and she looked right in the eye of the man that was observing her all day.

"Get down."

She listened surprised when he raised his gun and after two quick shots, Ellen heard a body hitting the fool. She was too far away from the phone again when the man moved. Swiftly putting himself between her perusers and the door, he pushed the phone from the table into her waiting hand.

"Call Neal!" he ordered and pushed her behind the counter.

Before Ellen could start dialing the second man was down the stairs, he managed to hide behind the wall that provided him enough cover to survive the first shots. It took one stray bullet, or maybe just luck. The impact pushed her down on her back, pain exploded together with the phone she had in her hand.

She couldn't hear anything through the rush of blood in her ears, pain pushing over everything. She didn't see the other bullet hitting few inches from her head. Neither did she notice her unknown bodyguard taking a successful shot, finally getting the last shooter.

That was close. Was the last thought John had before turning around and looking at the woman he was supposed to save.

Shit.

He didn't expect that Ellen was lying on the floor with the phone in pieces and her left arm covered with blood. Blood that seemed to pour out of her body into growing pool beneath her.

With practice, he took a surveying look over the counters and found fabric kitchen towel, with only three strides he was by her side pushing the cloth stopping the bleeding.

"Mister Reese!" Harold's frantic call finally registered.

"Harold I'm fine, just some unexpected guests at Miss Parker's; I assume probably those we were to stop. Now Miss Parker is hurt, can you please get me an ambulance here. We probably will also need some security at the hospital, or a safe place for her recuperate, and I don't trust the Marshals to be able to do it."

"I understand that however we need a trace for Detective Carter and probably our new friend at the FBI to follow. I need you to call the ambulance from your phone and leave as soon as you hear the sirens. I will try to get you one with our friends inside."

With slight resignation, John took his phone out dialing 911 "Understood."

"Nine-one-one, operator twenty-three, what is your emergency?" The voice was calm and collected.

Without hesitation, he gave just enough information to ensure an ambulance would be sent. "Shots fired at 118 West 85th Street. My friend is hurt."

"Sir…" sounded in the tiny voice from the speaker away from his ear, far enough for him to push disconnect button. The white numbers flashed on the screen, all took less than 20 seconds. Good, they will not be able to trace him back, and his phone had been set to block attempts at caller identification.

Now all he had to do was wait.


	6. Chapter 6

The first rays of the sun were lighting the sky up when his phone started to ring.

Neal turned in bed when a noise penetrated his dream. It was an annoying sound that didn't stop. Blindly he grabbed his phone.

"…hat" fell from his sleepy lips.

"Mister Caffrey apologies for the early call, but we have a situation. You need to go to Ellen's right now."

Before the words fully registered he was out of bed, running towards the bathroom. His eyes now wide open filled with dread, something happened to Ellen.

It took half the time it usually did, he even didn't style his hair, and he was still buttoning up shirt when running down the stairs. This time he didn't wait for a taxi, the Jag was in the garage. And June did tell him to borrow it any time he needed. Although she did ask to tell her before he did that too.

Well, he will give his apologies later.

At the early hour, he didn't have any troubles with getting to Ellen's place in a short time. However finding a parking spot nearby was a challenge, so he didn't even try and took a first he noticed a block away.

He walked fast, trying to blend in, not really sure what will be waiting for him at his goal. What he really didn't expect were police cars and ambulance, not to mention a bunch of lookers.

Neal run, arriving at the yellow police tape not sure what his next step should be, till he saw paramedics bringing Ellen down on a gurney. He spun into action, pushing the tape up and calling to a cop trying to stop him he was family.

"Ellen!" he grabbed her hand, squeezing hard to ensure himself. Her hand was warm, although sticky with blood. "Ellen what happened?"

One of the paramedics tried to get his attention. "Sir, sir are you family?" On Neal's fast nod, he continued. "We need to take her to the hospital right now, she lost a lot of blood, and is in and out of it."

Ellen squeezed his hand back, looking at him with pain-clouded eyes. She tried to tell him something, the oxygen mask blocking her words. Neal wished, not for the first time in his life, to have Mozzie's ability to read lips. Ellen was fighting with a paramedic that kept the mask on. Her bloody hand trying to get it off.

"Madam you need it to breathe!" he tried again when she slapped his hand and put the mask away. "D…" she gulped air… "n't"…. Words disappearing without air to push the sound out. "Trust…" The medic put the mask again, but he did understand the last word. Sam.

They were by the ambulance when Ellen used her other hand to push something in his palm.

"Which hospital are you taking her to?" Neal was on the edge of jumping in himself, one foot already in.

"Lennox Hill, are you coming with us?" Paramedic finished securing the gurney and pulled a hand to help him in.

He wished he could but he was on the edge of his radius, and a trip to Lennox Hill without Peter meant trouble.

"No." He wished he could. Shaking his head he took a step back. "But I will be there as soon as possible."

With a slight of hand, he put the object Ellen gave him into his pocket pretending to straighten his jacket. It was time to find out what happened. Discreetly looking around he noticed things that previously he ignored. The car with Marshalls had two bodies inside, and the door was shot and splintered. Forced entry obviously. But where was John? He was supposed to keep an eye on Ellen.

His phone vibrated.

Again an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"If you would please go to the car you left John is waiting for you to explain what happened. Please don't worry about Miss Parker, she will be put under best care money can buy. I will keep you posted." This time he recognized the voice, it was the small man called Harold.

Without watching to check if he shouldn't stay, Neal started walking back towards the Jaguar. "Will I be able to visit her?"

"Of course, although I'm not sure how Marshall's and your FBI watcher will react to that. But rest assured, best doctors from Lennox Hill will be on her case."

"Thank you." He told him sincerely.

"Now if you could tell Mr. Reese what is so important in the necklace that Ellen gave you, we might have an idea who is trying to kill her and why."

Neal stopped surprised "How'd you…?"

"Don't ever forget that you, and everybody else in this country, are being watched." The connection broke.

Neal could see John standing by the Jag, nodding to the unseen voice that relayed him the recent conversation. It will be an interesting day.

~

Peter Burke woke to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. It wouldn't be something unusual if his wife, usually responsible for waking him this way, wasn't still in bed beside him.

That meant Neal Caffrey. Peter sighed if Neal was this early at his home and making coffee that meant trouble. It seemed to follow him around lately.

Taking a quick look at the clock he groaned it was five thirty, it was Saturday, and he was hoping to sleep in. At least till seven, that is. Quietly he took his time to get downstairs, there was no need to wake El too, she arrived home in the middle of the night from the last event, spent and angry.

"Neal…" Whatever else he wanted to say fell silent when he spotted a dark haired man, that for sure wasn't Neal, standing by the bookcase. A black suit, and judging by the quality, nowhere in Peter's price range, with a white shirt covered in blood. When Peter stepped down, his head tilted slightly, position shifting, showing a gun tucked in a holster under his arm.

Peter stilled.

A cupboard closed with a muffled bang. "Oh Peter, don't worry John's with me." Peter scanned Neal, his eyes roaming on his body, hairs out of place like he ran a hand, over and over again. The suit as usual put together, as usual out of Peter's price range, but there was a dark stain on his jacket and pants. Blood probably. Blood was also on his right hand.

With three big steps, Peter was standing by Neal's side, checking him over with his hands. "Are you hurt? What happened? Who is he?"

Pushing Peter's hands away Neal turned and grabbed a cup of coffee from the counter. "Sit down and I tell you everything. Is El up?" He gestured for his companion to sit too and pushed a cup of black coffee towards him. Peter eyed the man again. He had a feeling he will not like what he was about to hear. "El's still asleep, hopefully for few more hours."

Neal took the last cup, wrapping his hands around it. The warmth spread over, he didn't know he was so cold. Taking a breath, he started his story.

Peter was surprised, probably in shock even. Neal came to him for help, didn't try to do everything himself putting everyone in the dangerous situation. And his mysterious companion was still very mysterious, although now he had a vote of trust in Peter's book.

"What's her state?"

"I.."

John cut in. "She is still in surgery, I let you know as soon as I know more." He nodded towards Neal, grateful for not giving up their secrets, especially in FBI company.

"Okay, so we can probably talk to her when she is out of surgery and wakes up. I can go in as FBI, and you as the family." Peter eyed John, he was sure he could get in somehow.

"Yeah, and we need to do it fast. I have a feeling that Sam will be back soon." Neal considered for a split of a second not showing Peter what Ellen gave him, but he came to him for help, no sense of hiding it now.

"Especially as I think it has something to do with this." He put a bloodied locket on the kitchen counter.

All three men looked at the currently rusty from blood looking piece of metal with curiosity. It could mean everything and nothing. Finally, Neal started to move, he knew where everything was in Burkes' kitchen, so finding something to clean the blood off wasn't difficult. He polished the metal till it shined again and not a speck of blood was visible anymore.

He then started an examination. There was nothing written on the outside, and after close look, he found only tear and wear of years it spent in Ellen possession. Looking at the two men observing his movements, he tilted his head in silent question, fingers poised and ready to open the locket. John and Peter nodded simultaneously. Within a second, a slight pop sound was heard and a squeak of old hinges and they finally got a look at what was inside.

A key, grime, and corrosion.

Neal used the piece of cloth he cleaned the outsides to clean insides and the key itself. It helped a little.

The key. It wasn't a normal one. For one it was in two pieces, secondly it was so corroded it almost lost specific shape that could identify what lock it would open.

John tentatively took the pieces and put them together, raising the key to light.

"What could it open?" Peter asked.

Neal shrugged. "It's a small key, so everything from a post box, locker, or a box, it could be anything. We need to wait and ask Ellen."

"I'm sure she didn't mean to give it to you without any explanation. In the meantime, let's clean all this grime and corrosion, maybe it will tell us more." Peter was quick to propose, he stretched his hand palm up. "I have a solvent that should clean it up"

Neal hesitated.

Peter, didn't wait for his response, leaving the two men in his kitchen. He had actually two goals in mind, one was a bottle of solvent he took from a cupboard hidden under the stairs. Within two minutes a glass bowl was filled with a half inch of the solution, and John put the key in.

His second goal was to check on Elizabeth, she had a late night, so there was a chance she will be still sleeping. Peter hoped she will miss the whole ordeal. He was pretty sure he saw a description of the man currently sitting in his kitchen with Neal as a person of interest from FBI. Opening slowly bedroom door he peeked inside. El turned taking over the middle of the bed, hugging part of the covers with one foot peeking out.

It should worry him, that despite knowing the man in his kitchen was probably some kind of criminal, he didn't have his usual reaction of calling for backup. He didn't even think about arresting him. Neal was a definitely bad influence.

He noticed the change as soon as he crossed the kitchen threshold again. Neal's shoulders sagged down, a lost look in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Peter's first instinct was to look at the bowl with the key. It seemed fine, a foam formed on top showing the chemicals were doing their job.

"News about Ellen?" That was fast, he glanced at the clock and was shocked it was actually seven already.

"She is out of surgery and all went well, but due to the shot being close to heart and her overall weak state they put her in a drug-induced coma. If all goes well they will try to wake her up in a few days." This time when Neal took a sip of his coffee his hand shook.

That was good and bad news at once. Good that Ellen was alive, bad as they were "who-knows-how-long-away" from getting some answers.

Peter's gaze moved to John. "Do we have a few days?" Whatever was happening seemed to speed in last days and it looked like John, whoever he was, was in the middle of it all.

John shook his head. "Not really sure. We knew Ellen might be in danger but we have no idea if that's it or if something else is lurking in the shadows." Without looking at them again he took a spoon and fished the key out. Taking the rag Neal used before he dried it and put up again for them to see.

John murmured. "That doesn't look like a normal key." Peter and Neal both leaned forward to see closer. Indeed it didn't look like a normal key at all. Neal took it end started maneuvering it around.

"It looks like…" he pulled the key slightly away, then closer again. Turning around he quickly moved to a spot where sun peaked thou curtain and put the key close by the small space. The shadow grew at the wall.

Peter exclaimed excitedly."It's a cityscape!"

"Shhhh you don't want to wake El up!" Neal was quick to react. He loved El like a sister, but those were things that he really needed to keep away from her.

Peter grinned, still happy they solved part of a puzzle.

"Interesting choice of a clue." John came close to the wall. "It indeed is a cityscape, more a panorama…" his finger traced the outlines of empty space between two buildings.

"Panorama that is missing something." Peter finished for him. Puzzles were his domain.

Neal kept staring at the shadow. "So we could assume that whatever building seems to be missing is the one we need to keep investigating looking for whatever Ellen wanted us to find."

"First we need to know what city this is." John chilled their enthusiasm.

Harold involved himself in the discussion again, although still just via John's earpiece. "With 90% probability, it's New York. Miss Parker spent here last fifteen years. I don't think she would have something done for Neal to track if it wasn't here. His movements are quite restricted at the moment."

John relayed what Harold told him.

"He's right. Ellen knows about the radius, and although the first time I went to visit her it was outside of it. I was keeping in line since then. So if something is hidden it's rather here in New York."

Peter nodded, it made sense. Especially when Ellen put the medallion in Neal's hands herself.

"How would she know where would you be?"

Neal smiled. "She wouldn't. That's why it's here in New York because this is where she was."

"So how do we find what building it is? Checking all possible locations you can see similar scape will take weeks." Peter frowned.

John smiled. "You don't have to check every location." He took the phone out of his pocket. "May I?" He extended his palm. Neal put the key in his hand.

He started taking photos. "My friend will make a 3D model and run a search against the city databases and pictures. That will take much less time." John gave the key back to Neal. "It's time for me to go. I will contact you as soon as he finds something." With a nod towards Peter, John let himself out via the back door.

"Do you trust him?" was the first question out of Peters' mouth as soon as the door closed and the shadow disappeared from view.

Neal shrugged. "Little more than anyone in this business. He did help save Ellen's life."

A shower started upstairs.

"You better go now. Contact me if they have some news for you."

Neal nodded. A moment later the front door closed with a soft click, leaving Peter alone with tree empty cups with coffee strains and bowl of chemical solvent. With a sigh, he started cleaning up. His thoughts flowing freely around Neal, Ellen and the things hidden in the past.


	7. Chapter 7

Neal was nervously turning the key, observing from each angle trying to match what he saw with known to him views of the city.

He yawned.

The beeps and hums of the machines were lulling him to sleep. After he left Peter's house, he took a quick stop at home to change and was out in minutes to visit Ellen at the hospital. He spent the first hour going over the red tape, but a phone call to Peter did wonders to Marshals mood and finally, he got in.

The plastic cup of awful hospital coffee was empty, his bladder was full and he certainly needed to move for a little while. Neal checked his phone. No messages. He squeezed Ellen's hand.

"I will be back in a few minutes." The nurse that came to check her state, told him to speak to her, especially as he was family. Even in a coma, she might hear him.

His break was really just a few minutes, a bathroom stop, the coffee machine in the hall and back. Few steps to stretch his legs and back to his post. Ellen's doctor was optimistic. The operation was a full success, and although bullet shattered her collarbone, none of the pieces moved enough to damage nerves or the artery. They fixed it, but as she was an older lady, they decided to keep her in a drug-induced coma for few more days allowing her body to heal quicker. The Doctor told him optimistically that they would like to start waking her up in four days.

Four days. That was definitely too long. Whoever was behind the attack will have time to plot and execute another attempt at her life. Especially as now she was a much easier target.

His phone beeped.

An unknown number. "Hello?"

"Mister Caffrey I found it. Where would you like to meet Mister Reese?" Harold's voice held a triumphant tone.

It took him only a moment to consider his options. "At Peter's, in half an hour?"

"He will be there."

As soon as the connection was broken, Neal was taking his things and speed dialing Peter.

"Peter, they have it, we will meet you at your place in half an hour."

Peter managed to say only one word before the connection was broken "We?"

Neal took a second to squeeze Ellen's hand again. "We got it, we will solve it once and for all, I promise." Kissing softly her forehead.

Nodding to the Marshall on duty he hurried toward the exit, phone in hand speed dialing another number.

Speaking quickly as soon as the phone on the other side was answered. "Mozzie, meet me at Peter's in half an hour." He didn't give him a chance to say anything else, he could explain when all showed up.

It took a little more than twenty minutes to get to Burke's place. He let himself through the front door sure he would be first. He was mistaken. John and Peter stood on opposite sides of the counter in what looked like a staring contest.

Peter visibly relaxed, seeing Neal.

"Neal."

"Peter, John." He nodded to both.

John opened his mouth to speak when the back door opened softly and a bald head slowly started to creep in.

"It's okay Mozzie, come one in." On Peter's voice, Mozzie jumped slightly hitting his nose on the door.

"Suit!" he opened the door little more to slip into the room.

"Neal." He nodded to his friend.

"Silent Suit" he measured John with his gaze.

Peter smiled slightly, he wasn't the only Suit in the room, and he actually found the nickname funny. Well, maybe not that the man was also called Suit. He wasn't FBI. But he did have this government type look. After a few years in the company of Neal and Mozzie, he could now understand what they meant telling him he looked like an agent no matter if in or out of his suit.

"What is going on?" Mozzie asked suspiciously. He knew Neal wanted to keep Suit in the loop, but bringing Silent Suit to him too was a bit too much in Mozzies book.

"We found the building in which Ellen put whatever she has hidden for the last thirty years." Neal started and stopped. Mozzie was looking at him with a what the hell are you talking about look.

"Oh, I forgot you don't know."

Peter saved him. "Ellen was attacked during the night." He nodded at John. "John helped to keep her alive, but she had to undergo a surgery to fix the damage."

Neal took the locket and the key out of his pocket. Showing both to Mozzie. "She gave me this before they took her to the hospital."

"It's a view of Manhattan." John finally could tell his news, while Mozzie studied the key's nook and crannies.

"It's missing one building."

"Yes. It's Empire State building"

"Ellen worked there as a security guard on the 50th floor"

"So what now? We know the building and probably the floor, but wouldn't whatever it is be hidden enough that not a random person could find it?"

"The only way would be to hid it during renovation under the floor, it's too easy to find by accident things in the ceiling."

"Mister Caffrey might be right. Few months before Ellen finished working in that building, the renovations on the floors 48th to 53rd were done." John relayed Harold's words.

Peter was thinking. "We know where then. But checking out at least three floors without raising suspicion will be difficult."

Mozzie with Neal smiled widely. "Not so difficult as you think," Mozzie answered. He already was running through alternative plans in his head.

"Would renting the floors help with the search?" John smiled at the stunned looks he received from all men. Renting even an office in that building would cost a fortune.

Neal was first to break from the surprise. "Yes, yes it would help. Giving us a freedom to do what we need and get the hell out of there, fast."

"Great then we have all the time we needed to search those three floors. Harold just rented them for at least next week. If needed he can extend the contract."

"Damn Silent Suits." Mozzie murmured under his nose.

He knew exactly how much renting that space would cost, not to mention he knew also that not a first person from the street could do it. He knew, more or less who Harold was, but could he trust them with whatever they would find?

"We need some way to check the floors, in a fast way." He said thinking aloud. "We can try a portable surface scanner machine?"

All three men looked at him with surprise. "How fast can you get one?"

"By tomorrow?"

"So we start tomorrow. 8 AM" they all agreed.

~

Neal stood by the Empire State building, gazing upwards. There on the 50th floor were answered, or at least he hoped there will be answers. He needed them.

John showed up silently at his side, only a minute later they were joined by Mozzie with a big bag. Peter was last one to show up. Neal and Mozzie were both in gray overalls with logos of cleaning company. Peter and John, as usual, were in suits, pretending to be one the representative of Harold and the other cleaning company.

"Ready?"

"Ready" was the combined answer.

John was the first to step forward. Getting to the right floors was actually anti-climatic. John introduced himself to the guards, got a pass for himself and his "cleaning crew", within minutes they were on their way.

The floors were empty, cleaned of everything than bare essentials, ready for the new users to come with their own equipment. Mozzie and Neal conferred what would be the best place to start their sweep, while John and Peter checked all the corners.

"We will go to check if there are no surprises on the other floors. Call if you find anything."

Peter went to one floor above the one they actually were on, and John two floors up.

John got a surprise. Pieces of renovation equipment lingered on the floor.

"Harold, when you rented the space, did they mention anything about renovations on one of the floors?"

"Renovations? No, they didn't. Which floor are you on?" His fingers ran quickly on the keyboard looking for orders and anomalies.

A phone ringed in the background.

"I didn't know the library had a land-line," John commented.

Harold's brows raised, his eyes left the screens before him to look towards the exit of the library. Bears' ears raised and turned towards the sound.

"Bear, zoeken"

The dog wagged his tail and barked shortly.

"Mr. Reese I will check it out, please be careful."

Harold followed Bear slowly, the phone was still ringing, they moved towards one of the older parts, where he usually didn't venture. The ringing sound getting louder. Bear stood by one of the shelves, his paws on the highest shelf he could set them, with nose directed to a shelf just above.

Taking books out he could see there was something behind them. Slowly a small room was uncovered, or rater a small space that could be at one point in time a room. A single desk, chair, some office equipment. And on the wall closest to the entrance, a green phone. Still ringing.

Harold tried to get to it, but he was to short, and removing the whole book stand was too time-consuming.

"Well it's not that I have another choice, do I?" Bear looked at him confused. Harold raised his body on the shelf and lying on stomach he balanced towards the phone finally reaching the handle.

The mechanical voice wasn't a surprise. Not like the phone, he didn't know about, ringing. It took less time to get back to his desk after hanging up, than picking the phone. Decoding the numbers wasn't complicated at all. Not after all this time. Finding the people as surprisingly easy.

"Mr. Reese please go back to Mr. Caffrey and Agent Burke. The Machine just gave me their numbers."

"On my way. Have you found anything about the renovations?" John moved swiftly to the stairs. It would take much less time to go down to get Peter than to wait for an elevator.

"No, not yet. I still need to break into the order rooster, maybe it's something new not on the books yet."

~

Neal was finishing the sweep, this floor was empty. They gathered their equipment and stood patiently waiting for the elevator to arrive.

Neal's phone ringed.

"Peter?" there was no sound for a moment. Then a rustling of fabric.

Peter's voice was muted. "What do you want Sam?"

Neal covered his phone, his eyes wide. "Sam is with Peter and I don't think it's a courtesy visit. Let's split up, I will take the elevator and you take the stairs."

Mozzie nodded and was quickly moving towards the stairs. There was no point in trying to change Neal's mind about this.

A moment later the elevator pinged, announcing its arrival. Neal hoped that in whatever place Sam stood, it would provide an additional distraction to allow Peter to act. Or Mozzie. Or he should also call John to let him know about the situation.

His time was up.

~

There wasn't much to check on the floor Peter was sweeping. The layout was basic and the same as the other floor. The only difference was renovation materials that were set without any plan creating a labyrinth he had to navigate to check everything out. He was pretty sure John or the guard down didn't mention anything about a renovation. He heard the door to the stairs close, but he couldn't see anyone.

"I really didn't want for it to end like that." Voice behind him sounded familiar.

Turning slowly Peter reached into his pocket and hit home button three times in quick succession, glad that El had him install an emergency call app on his phone. With Neal's number programmed as second.

Sam, the man he met in Neal's apartment, stood only a few feet away with a gun pointed at him. "Keep your hands where I can see them." He ordered.

Peter slowly raised his hands, hoping that the call went through.

"What do you want Sam?"

"I want the evidence that Ellen has on me."

Peter couldn't hide his surprise. "On you?"

"Don't pretend to be surprised. You knew that I was the Mob's inside man all along." Sam spat.

Peter decided to play for time. "I was under the impression that it was

James and he was only accused of minor involvement and for the murder of his superior."

Sam grimaced "That doesn't really matter. I need the documents, where are they."

"To do what exactly?" Peter played stupid. "Prove your innocence?"

"Hardly. I need them gone, there is still too much at stake not only for me but for others think it stops at corrupted by the Mob cops? It goes way beyond that. HR doesn't like…" he paused, realizing he told too much. "Stop playing games and give me the damn papers!" Sam's hand shook, slightly when he raised the gun higher.

"I don't have them."

The gun trembled. "I don't believe you. If you don't have them then my son does, they weren't where Ellen told me they will be, so you have to have them."

Peter eyed the gun, it was moving in an unpredictable pattern, left and right, at least it was pointing a little bit lover that's his head now.

"Your son?" It was news for Peter that Ellen told this man anything, but then again, as Neal mentioned Sam was her friend. Was it really Sam then?

"Stop that." The gun raised.

Elevator behind him dinged announcing the arrival of the cab. Peter's instinct told him to duck. The shot was a surprise, as it didn't come from behind him as he expected, but from Sam. Bullet hit a cement bag, just by his head, raising a cloud of dust.

"Put your gun down." Came to a call somewhere in the vicinity of the staircase door. Sam started to turn surprised, gun up ready for another shot. John didn't give him time to fully turn, when the shot rang, the bullet hitting an outstretched hand.

"Agent Burke? Are you all right?" Peter stood slowly, nodding.

"Neal?" went out another call. John kept an eye still on the shooter when Neal stepped out from the elevator. "Thank you, that was a nice distraction."

Neal shook his head. "Not really intended." He pulled the floor polishing machine behind him. "Now what?"

"Now mister Bennett put your hands up, so the good agent can arrest you." John was still hiding partially behind the pillar. Nodding to Peter he kept his eye on their bleeding opponent.

"Mister Bennett?" Neal wasn't sure he heard correctly, looking confused between Sam and Peter.

Taking few tentative steps towards the man Neal stopped, unsure what to do. Peter grabbed his arm, tugging him back. "Neal" he started quietly "let's finish this once and for all. I will put him in custody and then you can ask him whatever you want."

It took that second of their diverted attention for Sam to jump towards his gun and try to shoot John. This time he didn't have a choice or chance to disarm.

When the echo of the shot stopped to ring everyone stood in shock. No one expected the current outcome.

"What the hell happened here?" Mozzie said standing by the pillar where John was still hiding. They all jumped slightly at his voice.

"A better question is what are we going to now." Peter pointed to the body.

"We call the cops." John answered after a momentary pause, that indicated the idea came from Harold.

"Are you insane? We still need to look for what Ellen left." Neal protested.

"And we will after cops get here when we find it the chain of custody will go thru them instead of FBI." Peter was quick to catch up with the idea. "We, and I mean you and me." He turned to Neal. "Can't be associated with recovery of this documents."

"Why?"

"Because the government will be happy to use it as an argument that the documents in that box aren't real." It wasn't something either of them though before. Indeed with Neal's history as a forger FBI will be easily swept to think it was all just a forgery.

"It's time for me to go then if the pigs are supposed to run over this place." without another world Mozzie disappeared.

"It's time for me too." John nodded to Neal and Peter. "Harold will be here before Detective Carter arrives and will be your liaison for the situation."

"Why Harold and not you?" Neal was curious.

"Because, as in your case in the past, I'm still not NYPD's favorite person."

It wasn't long, actually only a few minutes when the elevator dinged and Harold arrived. After that there was a chaos of new cops coming and going, getting their statements and finally, they were allowed to finish their search.

In the end, finding the box underfloor was quite anti-climatic. Neal with Peter both grinned when the screen showed the spot, however before they could take the box, Harold called out for Carter preserving the chain of evidence.

It took only a few more minutes for the three men to be left alone.

"Now what?" Neal turned to face other men when the elevator door closed.

"Now we come back to our lives." Harold turned towards stairs, there was something challenging in walking the steps that he needed now.

"Wait! What about the documents? When FBI gets their hands on them we will never see them again."

Harold turned and nodded slightly, right, they could do that. "I'll ensure the copies will be available to you as soon as their authenticity is confirmed."

"Thank you." This time no one stopped Harold from leaving.

"What now?" Neal didn't wait for the door to close.

"That's a popular question today." Peter smiled. "Now you go to see Ellen and I will wait for the chaos in the organized crime to brew."

"Ruiz won't be happy."

"Nope."


	8. The End

_Three weeks later_

"Ellen?" Neal called from the hall.

"In the reading room!" her voice was almost back to full strength.

He smiled seeing her comfortably sitting in a big chair with a book on her lap. Sitting beside her, he took her hand.

"How are you feeling?"

"Almost like me again." She pulled on his hand to bring him close enough to kiss his cheek. "Did you thank June for allowing me to stay here?"

"Of course I did, and she was happy to help."

"Are you sure it's safe for us to stay?" She couldn't help to ask when he just smiled.

Shaking his head Neal stood up and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sure, it's the safest place in New York." Especially after all the upgrades he and Mozzie did to June's security systems. "Besides you have not two, but four Marshals finest as your watchdogs now."

"Those poor souls, as soon as I'm feeling better I will bake them some cookies, they have to die from boredom!" They laughed.

Neal was more than happy when June suggested that Ellen should stay at her home not only for recuperation but as long as needed. It gave them time to reconnect.

"Now, you'll have to excuse me, work waits for no man, con or not." With a wicked smile, Neal disappeared leaving Ellen to ponder his surprising words.

Peter was waiting for him on the sidewalk.

"How's Ellen?" Peter asked.

"Better, she is almost back to her old self." It took longer than he anticipated, but she was under the excellent care and had the stress of the past few weeks was finally gone.

"Is June back yet?" June, bless her heart of gold. She spared more headaches for Peter that he cared to admit, on the other hand, she also caused few of them. This time she was doing something to ease his worries. Having Neal and Ellen under one roof with great security helped a lot.

"No, she is staying in Paris for a few more weeks." Neal played with his hat. "You know that Marshals are not as happy as you are for Ellen to stay here."

Peter gave him a wry smile. "Well, the Marshals are never happy, but they can keep an eye on you and her at the same time."

"Is that what you said to convince them? That they will kill two birds with one stone."

"Pretty big stone I would say."

They walked for a few minutes in companionable silence. Each pondering on the same topic - mysterious box of documents they found last week.

"Have you heard from Ruiz yet?" Neal was first to break the silence.

"I was sure I heard him roar in anger yesterday, or maybe it was happiness, you know it's difficult to say with him. However, I know they made one arrest already and are gathering resources for further investigations."

"Anything on the documents itself?"

"Neal."

"I know, I know, we should keep away from it. But you know me."

"Yes, I perfectly know." He shook his head well aware of his CI's way of doing things. "That's why I won't ask where are you going to be between five and six today evening. When I perfectly well know you are not on your way home."

"Well considering I'm walking from work to home, I'm on my way home, just not straight lined?"

"Yeah, just a little bit bent, just like you" Peter couldn't help but smile. He actually liked Neal the way he was, it made life interesting. "Now for something to keep you occupied today we have a new case." Peter tried, really tried to add some cheer to his voice.

"You don't sound excited."

"It's insurance fraud." Even Peter wasn't a fan.

"Ah, that explains everything."

~

_That evening_

"HR - whatever it means, mobsters and corruption on a country-wide scale. No wonder Ellen spend thirty years in WitSec." Neal looked at the papers in his hand. It was too much. He thought he knew what will happen when he finally gets his hands on the documents in the box from Ellen. But this? This was something that even FBI would have troubles with, no wonder Ruiz was behaving like a caged lion. The documents were just the beginning, showing the top of the iceberg that was corruption on every level of not only the government but also law enforcement.

"We met with HR in the past, but their connection this is something new. Don't worry, Miss Parker is perfectly safe where she is. The smoking gun that was actually keeping her in danger - the box with its content - is now pointed in a different direction."

"FBI?" Neal wasn't sure it was the best solution. Sure Ellen was safe, well much safer than in the past years. But still.

"Well, yes. But they can handle themselves. And we will help in the background as much as possible."

The ring of a traditional telephone sounded nearby.

"Will you excuse me for a moment."

It took a little more than a moment, but when Harold came back he had a stack of books in his hand.

"Someone calling in to borrow books?" Neal was curious.

"No, no. That was another number."

Harold quickly put a sequence of numbers into his computer starting a search. Moment later name and a photo opened on the screen.

"Senator Terrence Pratt." Harold read.

"Wait. What? Terrence Pratt, I just saw his name in the documents."

Neal Neal started combing the copies spread on the table. Grabbing one page he walked to Harold to show him what he found.

"That goes way above what we previously thought. The overall situation just got way more complicated." Harolds forehead creased. Way, way too complicated.

Neal looked at the paper in his hand. "So this is the end?"

"No, this." Harold gestured at the papers covering every square inch of the table, looking at John who just came back from a walk with Bear.

"This is just the beginning."

**_The end._ **


End file.
